


Wrapped Up

by wig_powder



Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wig_powder/pseuds/wig_powder
Summary: An examination of why Henry likes scarves, mixed in with some illness because this is me we're talking about.





	Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after the first two episodes of the show aired, and thus doesn't take into account later events. However, I don't think anything in here contradicts what we ultimately got in the show, so I guess I got lucky. Thanks for that, Matt Miller.

Henry Morgan was obviously a man of mysteries to most of his acquaintances. His absurd breadth of knowledge, his standoffish demeanor, and his occasional apparent death wish were all topics that had been discussed and mulled over. But if his onlookers were in the mood for something a little less heavy, they would turn their attention to Henry’s fashion sense, and one accessory in particular.

_Maybe it’s one of his hobbies_, Lucas mused as he watched Doctor Morgan leave the office, tying a dark brown scarf with golden patterns around his neck, _Like he collects them or something and enjoys showing them off. I should compliment him on them; maybe then we could get an actual conversation going._

“The man’s a snob!” Detective Hanson complained to his wife, “That explains those fancy scarves. I bet you anything they’re all made of silk or cashmere or some other ridiculous thing, and he could tell you how they’re made in painstaking detail, right down to the name of each silkworm!”

_It’s probably just a fashion thing_, Detective Martinez thought idly as they left a witness interview and she noticed Henry tucking his yellow scarf neatly into the top of his coat, _Something that allows him to stand out a little bit. Stands to reason, considering someone with his eccentricities._

Admittedly, if any of them had bothered to _ask _Henry about it, he would have just shrugged, smiled mildly, and said he’d always liked scarves. As was often the case with him, the truth was a touch more complicated than that.

***

Henry’s head broke the surface of the river with a gasp. Quickly getting his bearings, he started paddling towards shore. He’d have to move quickly; now that they were entering mid-October, The temperature was dropping rapidly, especially in the water. The _last_ thing he needed was to succumb to hypothermia and freeze to death, necessitating starting this process all over again.

After placing a few calls, Henry hid in an alley, watching his breath mist up and shivering violently, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to get a _little _warmth in him. _Maybe I can avoid it this time_, he thought, pressing close to the wall,_ If I dry off as soon as I get in the car and shower the moment I get home, maybe I’ll be fine._

No such luck. By the time Abe pulled up, Henry’s nose was completely blocked, and the transition from cold outdoors to warm car proved too much for it. “_Het-CHH!_”

“Bless you,” Abe said, handing over a handkerchief and nodding his head to indicate the thermos of hot tea waiting in the cupholder, “So it’s started already?”

“It’s not a certainty yet.” Henry protested, his argument hampered by the fact that his nose was running like a faucet and “not” sounded suspiciously like “dot”. He took a sip of tea and continued “I could ward it off if we get back in time for me to have a shower and take some Vitamin C…”

Abe shook his head affectionately, “Face it, Henry, it’s just a fact of life for you now. You wake up naked in water every time you die, and every winter, you get sick each time you come back.”

Henry groaned and sniffled, toweling down his hair. “Maybe this time we can keep it down to one day?” He sounded like he was trying to bargain his way into it.

“Nope. You’ve tried showers, tablets, soup, heating pads, and every preventable remedy you’ve ever read about, short of boring a hole through your head to let the evil spirits out. And you _still_ wind up sneezing for the better part of a week. Sorry, Henry, you’re pretty much doomed.”

Henry pulled on the shirt Abe kept in the back, pleased that he’d swapped it out for something a little thicker. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve been around for two hundred years, surely I’ve had an opportunity to catch every cold virus that’s ever existed. I should be immune by now.”

“What was it you said in relation to the Spanish Flu? ‘Never underestimate the power of a virus.’”

Henry sighed, rubbing ineffectually at the itch that had made itself at home in his sinuses. “Very well, I surrender to fate. Now let’s get home so I can try to get this thing out of my system. Detective Martinez and I are working on a shooting case, and I want to be there when she interviews a certain witness.”

“Should I ask if that’s the reason you’re shivering in the car right now?”

“Not exactly,” Henry said, shoulders relaxing as the antique store came into view, “Let’s just say that our work on the case may be delayed because of a carbon monoxide leak in the office. I called it in after I called you. And I didn’t need to work very hard at disguising my voice.”

He could tell Abe was trying very hard to keep his amusement at bay. Perhaps to keep from laughing, he focused on parking the car and asked, “So, shower or bed?”

Henry’s shivers redoubled as he stepped out of the car. “Bed,” he decided, “I’m sorry if I ruined your dinner plans.”

“Ah, it’ll keep. Besides, I can use the broth I prepared to make you some soup instead.”

“Thank you, Abe,” Henry said, his smile genuine despite everything, “I’ll see if I have the strength to make it to the table.”

When they got inside, Abe went to the kitchen while Henry retreated to his bedroom, replacing his clothes with his thickest flannel pajamas. As he undressed, he took note of his symptoms, trying to gauge how bad this one was going to be. Clear signs of moderate fever…no trace of swollen glands…perpetually itchy nose…

The tip of his nose brushed against the shirt collar as he removed it, and he pitched forward, violently spraying the inside of the shirt. “_Hah-CHHT!_” He sniffed and dabbed his nose with the handkerchief. Make that a perpetually itchy, particularly sensitive nose. This was going to be one of the sneezing ones. Fantastic.

With another sigh, Henry opened his closet door and pulled out a thick blue scarf. Wrapping it firmly around his neck, he retrieved his handkerchiefs and a book, prepared to settle in for the long haul.

***

“Good grief, Doctor Morgan,” Detective Martinez said, standing in the doorway with an expression that was an equal mix of impressed, concerned, and disgusted, “When your friend said you were in a sea of tissues, I thought he was joking.”

Henry glanced around him and winced. The tissues he’d been using had overflowed the garbage cans (Abe prudently having brought over the one from the bathroom) and were starting to creep under the bed, and that wasn’t even counting the ones scattered across the covers. “Well, the river of mucus has been flowing into it, so it’s to be expected.” he said, plucking another tissue from the box by his elbow and debating whether sniffing or blowing would be the worse sound.

Martinez arched an eyebrow at him. “I guess you can’t be that bad off if you’re making remarks like that. How you feeling?”

“Fine, considering.” he said, electing to sniff. Unfortunately, that just triggered the itch in his nose again, and he pressed the tissue to his face in an attempt to muffle it. “_Heh-ngxxt!_”

“Jesus, do you have a cold or the Black Death, Doctor?”

“Believe me, you’d know if I had bubonic plague. The marks on my body would have clued you in long before the sneezing started.”

“I was being hyperbolic,” Martinez said, before she noticed what he was reading. “Found anything useful?”

“Possibly. The victim’s brother gave slightly conflicting testimony, first to the police on the scene and then to you. It says he stopped to look into a record shop when he talked to the police, but to you, he was popping into the grocery store to pick up milk. There is a grocery store and music store in the vicinity, so he may have been getting confused, but…” He’d meant to just trail off significantly, but his nose had other ideas. With no time to grab for a tissue, he resorted to what was at hand and buried his nose in his scarf. “_Heh-gnsst!_”

“Bless you!” Martinez sounded concerned, “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I know it looks awful, but it isn’t as bad as all that,” Henry said, taking another tissue from the box to rub at his nose, “It’s just that my colds seem to have one overwhelming symptom. It’s either a fever that leaves me delirious, a sore throat that takes my voice away, or congestion that utterly soaks all the handkerchiefs I have on hand and forces me to start using tissues…hence the mess you see before you. So really, other than being tired and, well, perpetually dripping, I’m not that bad off.”

Martinez didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she shifted her weight in the way that meant that she was willing to accept that answer. Henry smiled a little and moved to adjust his scarf, wanting to move the wet patch away from his face. The movement caught Martinez’s eye, and she shook her head. “I’m guessing that scarf’s seen plenty of wear already. I think it’s time to trade it in for a new one, or at least to give it a little backup.” Glancing around his room, she noted the open closet door, the scarves all hanging in neat rows. “May I?”

“If you’d like.” Henry said with a shrug. Another scarf to keep out the lingering chill might not be so bad, at that. Martinez quickly looked through the selection. “Ah-ha! Just the thing!”

Henry felt his heart drop a little when he saw her turning around, a red wool scarf clutched in her hand. Martinez wrapped it into a light ball and tossed it to him, hitting his lap. “There you go.”

He smiled wanly and picked it up, lightly draping it over his shoulders. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Thank _you_ for still trying to work on this case while you’re so clearly at death’s door.” she answered, amusement in her tone, “I’ll follow up with the victim’s brother and let you know if I find anything. In the meantime, get better.”

With that, she was gone with a nod and a wave. Henry waited until he heard the front door close before he took off the red scarf and looked at it, rubbing it between his fingers. Unbidden, the memories floated back…

_“**Eh-ishh!**” Henry sneezed wetly, rubbing his nose on his handkerchief and trying his best not to shiver. It was one of his “fevered” colds, and his moments of lucidity were few and far between. He wanted to be up to greet Abigail when she got home._

_Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait. Not five minutes later, the door swung open, and a minute after that, Abigail was poking her head into the bedroom, clucking at the sight of him. “Poor dear, have you been waiting up for me?”_

_  
“Trying to, at any rate.” Henry admitted, finally allowing himself to shiver._

_Abigail sat at the foot of the bed and gave him that dazzling smile of hers. “You didn’t have to do that, but as long as you did…I’ve got a little something for you.”_

_With that, she pulled a bright red scarf out of her bag and slipped it around his neck, thoroughly covering the skin. “I thought it might help you keep warm. And maybe if you wrap yourself up in it after one of your little…soakings, it’ll prevent things like this from happening as often.”_

_Henry touched the scarf, admiring its softness and the fact that he did, indeed, feel a little warmer. “Thank you, Abigail,” he said, giving her the warmest smile he could, “I’ll wear it as often as I…**CHSSH!**”_

_“Bless you. Normally, I’d say it would clash with most of your clothes,” she said, her tone playful, “But if this is as regular as you say, it’ll always go perfectly with that bright red nose of yours.”_

_“Oh, you!” he said, swatting feebly at her. She laughed, patted his hand, and went out of the room to get some water and a cold compress._

Henry snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the scarf. He didn’t know why he kept it with the others, really; it wasn’t like he wore it much anymore. But he had it now, and it wasn’t worth the effort to put it back. So instead, he draped it carefully over the edge of his bed and lay down in an attempt to get some sleep, the fringe lightly brushing against his fingertips as he rested his hand on the mattress.

***

“I see you’re up and about again, Doctor,” Martinez said with a smile as she entered his office, “Has the sea dried up?”

“It’s down to a faint trickle,” Henry confirmed, “Mostly only flares up if the room’s a little too cold for my liking.”

She leaned up against the wall. “You were right about the brother. Turns out this was a drug bust gone bad. Older brother didn’t want to go to jail for possession. But at least we caught the guy who did it. Anything new I should know about?”

Henry shook his head. “It’s been relatively quiet.”

“Hanson’ll be happy to hear it. Listen, if you’re free, would you like to have lunch together? I’d like to pick your brain and maybe try to learn some of your tricks, so I can spot these things on sight instead of having to rely on you all the time.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted,” Henry said, getting to his feet, “But I’d be happy to have lunch with you. Give me a minute to get my coat.”

Martinez headed into the hall to wait, while Henry traded coats and reached for his scarf, a medium green one this time. He wrapped it around him carefully, covering up most of the front and all of the back. The small increase of warmth reassured him.

Perhaps it was psychosomatic, perhaps it was another element of his curse, but Abigail’s suggestion had been right, all those years ago. He always felt a certain…chill, even on perfectly sunny days. It almost seemed to be a reminder of what he’d have to go through the next time he died. Having something warm around his neck always made him feel better, physically and emotionally. Even if it was made of delicate silk and barely kept out the wind, it was a protective barrier, a statement of “I may have been cursed with this life, but I’ve found a way to work around it. You will not defeat me.” Abe had scoffed a little when Henry had explained it, but Henry suspected he understood, all the same.

Tucking a recently cleaned handkerchief into his pocket, just in case, Henry readjusted his scarf once more and went out to join Martinez. Perhaps having another pair of eyes that saw what he saw wouldn’t go amiss, at that…


End file.
